


Nice Knowin' Ya

by ExLibrisCraux



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, also let's be totally honest those tape recorders are basically characters at this point, and i love her so, but what she does get might be even better, jon's really just here to listen, no beta we die like men, ordinary people get to know things too, rosie doesn't get to punch elias, so they get a shoutout in the character tags, tbh so's elias, this is all rosie, this is how i cope with season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 20:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExLibrisCraux/pseuds/ExLibrisCraux
Summary: Statement of Rosalind Kempe, regarding her relationship with the Magnus Institute. Statement delivered direct from subject to Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute; Jonathan Sims, Archivist, witnessing.Or: Rosie has some thoughts, and she would like to share them with the class.Spoilers for Season 4 up to episode 158.





	Nice Knowin' Ya

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for S4-ep 158. There is one (1) Big Swear, but Rosie's earned it.

Statement of Rosalind Kempe, regarding her relationship with the Magnus Institute. Statement delivered direct from subject to Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute; Jonathan Sims, Archivist, witnessing.

You know a lot, don't you sir? Yes, of course; it's what you _do_. It's the whole reason for your existence. Has been for two hundred years now, hasn't it?

You look surprised. Should I not know that?

Here's the thing that I think you've forgotten, sir... you know a lot, but you don't know _everything_, and you are not the only person allowed to know things. Excuse me, Archivist, I'd like to sit down, if you don't mind. These heels look amazing but they aren't great for standing around in.

Much better - thank you for the chair, Mr. Sims.

Now then, Mr. Boucha- no. No, actually, I don't think I want to give you the pleasure of your alias. Mr. _Magnus_, I would like to give you a list of things that _I_ know.

I know that you prefer coffee to tea, and that you take it black.

I know that Mr. Sims prefers tea with just a little sugar, no milk, and that more often than not he forgets it's there and leaves it undrunk. I know that once upon a time, that fact distressed Mr. Blackwood considerably.

I know that the Great Paperclip Famine of 2015 was the doing of the late Mr. Stoker, who took great delight in nicking every box of paperclips I ordered for several months at a stretch. I know that this was a prank designed and perpetrated specifically to annoy the _original_ Ms. James. I know that the gambit worked splendidly well for him. The disarray in the supply cabinet following their ..._discussion_ of the matter was extensive.

Related to that, I know the name, telephone number, and URL of every office supply distributor, cleaning company, staffing agency and vending machine retailer in the greater London area. I know which supplies will be required how often; I know the preferred brands of every employee of this Institute as regards supplies, snacks and beverages alike.

I know where every staff member in this building has their office or workstation. I know when they will be in the office and when they will be out on leave. I know the time they habitually arrive, and the time they will generally skip out again after their shift.

I know the names of their spouses, their children; their extended families, their pets; I know the ages of their grandchildren and how well they're doing in school.

I know that you _could_ know all of these things as well... but that you choose not to. You don't care enough to notice.

I know all these things not because of a supernatural connection to some eldritch entity, but because people talk to me. They lean on my desk and they show me pictures on their phones, they tell me their troubles and triumphs, they share with me the details of their lives because _they_ know that I _do_ care. They know that those things will be safe with me.

Shall I tell you some other things that I know?

I know that there are roughly twenty-five steps, for the average person, between the front door of the Institute and my desk, and I know that door is the only way into or out of the Institute... well, unless you count the tunnels, of course.

I know about the tunnels now. We all do, since they became a vector of attack on the Institute. A vector, I feel I should note, that you were aware of, well before we had cause to, and did nothing about.

I know how long it takes to try to run those twenty-five steps while behind you, something _horrible_ is laughing and laughing and _laughing_. I know how loudly and how long a perfectly normal person can scream when something that _should not exist_ catches them at its mercy. I know how _awful_ the silence is when the screaming stops.

I know the names, Mr. Magnus, of every Institute employee that was murdered at the hands of some inhuman, semi-human, or previously-human creature that you, despite being perfectly aware of their presence, allowed to invade and have their way. I. _Know. Those. Names_. I know their spouses' names. Their children's names. Their grandchildren. Their friends and neighbors. I know... a lot of people. Real, living people, who've felt the knock-on effects of your two-century foray into things you should _never_ have opened the door to.

I know that the smug expression you're currently wearing is one I'd dearly like to slap off your face, but I also know it wouldn't do me any good. If punching you were an effective deterrent the line to get in a good, solid whack would stretch to the Thames.

So I can't hit you and sure; go ahead and look smug about _that_, too. But how about this: because I know all of these other things, here's something _else_ I know: the access information for the accounts funding this Institute.

I know there's rather less money in those accounts right now than there was just a few minutes ago, and in a few more minutes there will be next to none. I know you're going to do everything in your power to try to reverse that fact, but I _think_ you're going to find that rather difficult. You know a lot of dark secrets, Mr. Magnus, but I know a lot of grim realities, and grief is a more powerful motivator than fear... and it’s _astonishing_ what people will tell you, what they’ll help you to do, no compulsion needed, if their motivations are strong enough.

I know I've no chance of escaping this unscathed... but let's be quite honest, any chance of that went out the window as soon as I signed the employment contract. It sure as hell got put completely to bed the first time something _dreadful_ came up through the floor.

But I know that I've managed to make a difference to the families of those people you allowed to die. I know that at least ONE person in this godforsaken building did the right thing for the ordinary people that have suffered most for your _unconscionable_ agenda. And I know, ultimately, that I can live - or die - with that.

Archivist, thank you for your time. Mr. Magnus? Go _fuck_ yourself.


End file.
